When the Wildflowers Speak

<p><strong>PROLOGUE</strong></p><p>The cottage sat nestled at the edge of Meadow brook its weathered</p><p>stones cradled by a riot of wildflowers that danced in the summer</p><p>breeze. The garden seemed alive its vibrant colors whispering</p><p>secrets to anyone who paused long enough to listen. Claire Harper</p><p>stood on the gravel path her fingers curling around the strap of her</p><p>suitcase. The scent of lavender and honeysuckle wafted through</p><p>the air mingling with the faint rustle of leaves and the distant hum</p><p>of bees. </p>